Well sir, How shall I begin?

I’d like to begin that day I first met my Yellow Rose

unbaked skin in a fitted bodice

Wide flowing skirt, topmost skirt layer

revealing yellow petticoat

that perfectly suited her complexion

She was on the walk and walking free

Though she must have known

those cotton fields behind her

would one day hold her prisoner

while I, prisoner…

no, wait, I want to return to that image

the first time I saw her

and I prayed my Lord to make her mine

So that day I boldly strode up to her and said

Well, she said before I could say

That I was an incorrigible  strutting rooster

So what could I say or do in return

But to grasp those alluring cheeks

Pull her face toward mine

And kiss her

I walked away, having gotten what I wanted

Knowing that next we met

that barrier, at least, would be broken

Broken was a word not to be used lightly

Here I was, broken from my state of Tennessee

Searching for a friend broken from his home

Who found himself in a battalion

Of a country that had just been broken

Not wanting to be seen without a uniform

I came to her at night

Embraced her

Promised lovers’ promises

And promised I’d return

As I went back home

And just east of my friend

Found myself in the 10th Tennessee Infantry Regiment

A gritty bunch of Eire-Landers

Who liked to sing songs

And fight with their fists

And, though fine soldiers

Tried to break my nose on several occasions

But when the trumpet sounded

They were ready to give their lives for me

As any decent soldier would do

None of us understood why we were fighting

But fight for our country we did

And after a battle

McSweeney would conveniently come up with some whiskey

And most of them would liquor out the memories of war

Myself, I stayed sober

Thinking of that day

When I’d return to my Rose

Atop a tall white horse

Well, the battles began and ended the same way

Until the day our skirmish took an unexpected turn

And those not killed were taken prisoner

They drug us along a piece

Which I thought was all to the good

As our lives may be preserved

But the end of our journey

Showed how very wrong a man can be

A rotten, stinking death place

Full of what could only be called living corpses

And the mournful cries of doomed men compounded by the thousands

I had heard of this place

But never could believe the truth

The Truth, however, stunk powerfully with the sweat, blood, and dung

Of the thousands upon thousands of men, merely fighting for their country

And were condemned here to suffer pain

Such as man had never inflicted upon fellow man before

I turned my eyes away, I didn’t want to count

But their dying sound gave them away

Each unique, a final death gasp, accompanied by a plea to his God

And, even though I didn’t want to know

I knew more than one hundred of us were departing each day

As I lay in the bed I had made in the dirt

I realized my time would be coming soon

For a small wound I bore in my arm

Had been gathering infection

Compounded by the dirt

And it would spread

Or maybe be cut off with a rusty saw

I am someone they wouldn’t keep alive

Just a man who yearns for his sweetheart

And doesn’t even understand this wicked war

So if you should run into my precious Rose

Please tell her

I tried to come, I tried my best

But one day I will be there

Riding on a tall white horse

With the Savior by my side

And if she should ask where I’ve been

Tell her, “Andersonville, My Love"